Memory
by IcarusFalling23
Summary: Harry obliviates all of his memories of the wizarding world, and with a clean slate, he moves to Forks to start over again. But as he makes new memories, will he remember any of his old ones? Harry Potter/Twilight crossing: HP/EC, and canon pairings. B/J
1. Chapter 1

Harry looked out the window as the rain poured down outside. Number 12 Grimmauld Place seemed empty without him. Everything was silent. Kreacher had died last week with the last of the Black sons. Harry was an honorary Black, but he wasn't Sirius. Even Walburga's portrait was silent. The house echoed with emptiness. Every footstep filled the house, mocking him in his loneliness. The house seemed to know that he was alone, and it took malicious glee in his situation. Floorboards creaked and the house swayed, as though Sirius were right around the corner, waiting to pop out and say, "Just kidding!" Harry looked out at the muggle street and the oblivious people across the way. They were sitting around their television, happily enjoying an evening together. Harry was sickened by their happiness. As he stood there, the thought of all the things that were wrong with this world. There was a war going on, that few people even believed they were fighting! The battle in the Ministry only proved how naive they were: Voldemort had been right there, and they still hadn't managed to capture him. It always seemed to come back to Harry and Voldemort. His second year, with Tom Riddle and the basilisk had only proven this point further. Why was Dumbledore always making that mad man his responsibility? Weren't there older wizards that could take care of Tom? Harry was a teenager! His thoughts returned to a man trapped in a diary for fifty years, and the memories encased inside. He thought again of his second year, with Ron and Lockhart…He thumped his head lightly on the glass as he thought of it. Memories! Why hadn't he realized it before! With tears sliding down his cheeks like the rain on the window, Harry raised his wand.

* * *

"Obliviate."

* * *

His thoughts of Sirius floated away from him. In his mind, it was as if water was being spilled on a very old book: words and pictures faded as everything was washed away. Even the pages seemed to dissolve as fourth and fifth year bled away along with second and third. His memories of the Mirror of Erised and Quirrel washed away along with them. Ron and Hermione, Remus, Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, Gryffindor house, Dumbledore, and finally, Voldemort. Everyone's faces faded from his mind as the spell wreaked its destruction. He had only meant to forget Sirius, but this seemed like a much better solution. Harry smiled blissfully as the entire Wizarding World faded away and his pain disappeared.

* * *

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron scrambled down the stairs, tugging his shirt down and trying to buckle his belt at the same time.

"Honestly, Ronald, did your mother never teach you to dress yourself?" she asked sarcastically. She shook her head and emptied some Floo powder into her hand. The grainy golden sand trickled out between her fingertips as she threw her handful into the fireplace. The fire turned from a cheery orange to a deep green and she stepped into the grate.

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place!" she said clearly. The green fire swirled around her and she turned in the fireplace. Embers rose in a cyclone as the flames leaped and danced around her. Her knees nearly buckled as she was tossed into the correct fireplace, and then onto the ground in front of her new destination. As she opened her eyes, she distastefully took in the dark appearance of Grimmauld's living room. Dark wood and heavy draperies dominated the room. Dust clung to every flat surface thickly, and the paintings sneezed as they tried to peer out through the grime. Hermione shook her head again and walked into the kitchen. Might as well see if Harry had started lunch already.

* * *

Harry looked out the window at the street in front of him. Across the way, he could see a family around their television, enjoying their meal together. Hopefully Vernon wasn't home; he might get some lunch if his uncle was still at work. In the kitchen, he thought he heard Petunia, but he wasn't sure. How had he gotten here? This didn't look like Privet Drive… Harry shrugged his shoulders and turned around. His eyes widened dramatically: the room was disgusting! Petunia would have kittens if she saw how he'd been slacking! Harry grabbed a thin washrag from the corner of the room and got to work polishing the tables quickly. The washrag had been held tightly in an old statue's hand, but Harry didn't think anyone would mind him taking it, as long as he cleaned the room quickly.

Half an hour later, Harry could smell meat cooking as Petunia worked in the kitchen. He heard her grumbling, probably something about him, as she slammed pots and pans around. His eyes widened and he got back to scrubbing at the pictures hanging on the walls. It felt like someone was watching him, but when he turned around, Dudley was never there. He shrugged his thin shoulders and went back to cleaning, never noticing the cleaned pictures' eyes following him around the room.

* * *

Hermione slammed the pot onto the stove top and started adding chopped carrots and celery to it. As the water and vegetables boiled, she added some diced chicken and covered the pot to keep it warm. It was a little plain, but she couldn't find many seasonings. She had been surprised when she opened a cabinet and found a roasted chicken in it! She stuck her hand inside, and realized it had a cooling charm on it. Apparently, random cabinets were the Wizard World's solution to refrigerators… She smiled to herself as she set the table. Harry would be surprised when he came downstairs and found lunch already made!

* * *

Harry glanced around the room. The worst of the dirt was gone, but he didn't have a ladder, so the chandelier was still grimy. The paintings were cleaned, and the tables were shining. The glass in the cabinets was clean now, and he just had to vacuum the floor and he'd be finished. Harry wandered down the hallway as he followed the smell. The rest of the house was in as bad of shape as the living room! Scuff marks made the wooden floors look ghastly, and cobwebs hung everywhere. Well, he'd take care of that after lunch. As Harry walked into the kitchen, he saw a woman with her back to him. She had a t-shirt and jeans on, not Petunia's usual dress and high heels. Her hair was pulled back into a messy braid. This was definitely not his aunt…

"Hello? Do you live here?" Harry asked her quietly, not wanting to surprise her. The woman turned around and looked at him strangely.

"Hullo, Harry. Want some lunch?" Harry shook his head.

"I'm not supposed to eat food from strangers…Where is my family?" He asked her. The woman's eyes widened.

"Very funny, Harry. Come on, eat some lunch." She said again in exasperation. She dished him up a bowl of soup and placed it on the table. Harry sat down, but made no move to eat the food from this strange woman.

"Harry! Come on! I'm not that bad of a cook!" She said angrily. Harry shook his head again, and pushed to soup further away from himself.

"I can't eat food from strangers! My Aunt told me not to!"

"Your Aunt? Harry, you don't live with them anymore…" She trailed off.

"Harry?"

"Yes, ma'm?" He answered politely.

"How old are you, Harry?" She asked him slowly.

"11!" He said happily.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Previously: **_

"_How old are you, Harry?" She asked him. _

"_11!" He said happily. _

* * *

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. Harry thought he was eleven again? How had this happened? Her mouth set in a decisive line and she sat down heavily: she would get to the bottom of this.

"Of course you are, dear. Tell me: did you find a stick anywhere?" She smiled at him. Harry nodded again. He dug in his pocket and handed it to her. Tears welled up in her eyes at the simple trust he placed in her: no witch or wizard would ever hand over their wand that easily. She picked it up delicately and pointed her own wand at his.

"Priori Incantantum." She whispered. The tip of Harry's wand lit up briefly, and thin cursive wrote itself out in the air in front of her: glowing blue letters spelled out the words she had been dreading: Obliviate. Harry had done this to himself, and she had no idea how to fix this. One thing she did know was that she had to keep this quiet.

"Would you like to live with me, Harry? I was thinking of traveling, but now I know exactly where I want to go." Harry's eyes shifted a little bit as they narrowed.

"Where is my family? Did they leave me behind again?" He asked angrily. Hermione's heart clenched painfully: they had abandoned him before? What else hadn't Harry told her and Ron? She smiled widely to hide how she was feeling.

"Yes, Harry," she lied quickly, "they left you with me for a while. What do you remember?"

"We went to an island and stayed in a cabin, and it was my birthday, and there was no power where we were." Harry said slowly. Why was this woman asking him so many questions? And could he really go to live with her? He cocked his head to the side.

"Can I really stay with you?" She nodded and he smiled at her. "So, where did you want to live? Didn't you say something about traveling?" Hermione nodded.

"Let's go to America, Harry…"

* * *

Hermione sighed heavily. After lunch, she had convinced Harry to take a nap for a while, so she would have some quiet to figure out their travel plans. As she packed using magic, she realized that Hedwig was still staying at the Weasley's. She popped through the fireplace quickly, and brought Hedwig back with her. Now, to convince him to help…

Hermione wrote her letter quickly. She didn't mention who needed the help, only that a spell had backfired, and she needed immediate assistance.

* * *

As a snowy white owl sat on a perch in his office, Severus Snape read over its letter carefully. What had that know-it-all gotten herself into this time?

* * *

Snape's eyebrows rose slightly as he came through the floo in the living room; apparently Harry had gotten a new house elf. Everything was clean, and the glass shone. The portraits looked happy, and the room was well lit. Hmm. It was a welcome change compared with how the dismal house used to look.

Severus walked into the kitchen slowly. Hermione and Harry were sitting at the table as the dishes washed themselves in the sink, and no one else was in sight. Severus sighed in exasperation.

"What's the big emergency that demands my immediate attention, Granger?" Severus growled. Harry looked up at him and smiled, "Who are you?" he asked cheerfully.

With no further questions, Severus proceeded to bash his head into the wall.

* * *

After he got over his initial shock, Severus looked at Harry closely. The haunted look that the war had placed in his eyes was gone. His eyes now shone happily as he looked around him, taking in the appearance of these strange people, and waiting for his relatives to return for him.

"Harry?" Snape asked quietly. This was not the boy he hated. Over the years, they had developed a mutual hatred, culminating in the death of Harry's godfather. However, somehow, he could not bring himself to despise this boy. There was no trace of James Potter in him. Of course, the hair was the same; everything but the eyes was the same... But, whatever trace of James that he had imagined in Harry was gone. He was just a little boy... As Severus pondered their Occlumency lessons, Hermione watched him anxiously. Severus was her only chance of making Harry normal again.

* * *

As his thoughts wandered over their previous lessons, Severus looked into Harry's eyes again. The wide green orbs watched him innocently as Severus slid his wand into his hand. As he raised his arm and said the words, he dimly heard Hermione shrieking in the background.

_Legilimens… _

Severus slid into Harry's mind and saw himself through Harry's eyes. He poked through the boy's memories of Hermione cooking dinner, and of sitting on the windowsill in the living room. As he delved deeper, Severus' nose wrinkled in disgust. He saw the boy's fat uncle screaming at him, and Petunia snatching away a plate of food from his hands. _Well,_ thought Snape, _that answers some questions…_ Snape continued back through Harry's memories, and something caught his eye. It was a memory through Harry's eyes as he looked at a mirror. A split lip and a purpling eye decorated his face, along with darkening bruises. Severus mentally screeched to a halt. Harry couldn't be older than nine in this memory.

Severus pulled out of Harry's mind slowly, and looked at the boy across from him.

"You poor boy…" was all he said. Hermione looked at him quizzically, and then her eyes widened in shock.

"Harry, do you hurt anywhere?" she asked tearfully. Harry glanced at her warily, and then looked back at Severus.

"You never answered me. Who are you?" Harry said. Severus nodded to him.

"My name is Severus Snape. I've been your teacher for 5 years, but I guess is the first time you've ever met me."

* * *

Bill Weasley was not a happy man. He had been married for a year and a half, and that was somehow still setting in. Fleur was wonderful, of course, but somehow, his feelings were still in the 'mild attraction' phase, and not yet to the 'I-love-you' phase. They had been married quickly. They were in the middle of a war after all. But, now that Voldemort was being quiet for the time being, the initial happiness of the wedding had disappeared, and he and Fleur found themselves living with practical strangers.

And being a stranger to your spouse is not a good thing.

TBC...


End file.
